Molly's story
by Roxy0800
Summary: A short oneshot of Molly describing her home and family life when Alex and Molly's dad Mr Drake still lived together in 2008.


_So I wrote this as practice for writing to describe in my english GCSE TOMORROW!!! But I wanted some opinions on it so I thought I'll publish it. It is Mollies description of their home and family life when Alex and Mr Drake (Molly's dad) where still together in 2008. Unfortunately no Galex in this one, I was going to add some but I'm supposed to be revsising 'poems from other cultures' right now so I didn't have time. The task was to 'describe your home' and please give me your honest opinion as my GCSE may depend on it. Yes I am begging for reviews. Please, please, please review I'm on my knees and begging whilst receiving very strange looks from my cat._

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The dull brass doorbell hiding against the deep brown wood of the front door frame. Hidden so well in fact that no one really knows or notices that it's there. I can't remember the last time I heard it ring, the few visitors we have opting to knock heavily on the panel of wood between the coloured glass of the door. Those knocks echoing through the hallway until dispersed into the other large luxurious rooms.

The afore mentioned coloured glass in a variety of colours, none of which are particularly pleasing, aren't in any obvious pattern apart from a line of symmetry down the middle as they are separated by a bar of wood. In the morning when the sun rises its soft light shimmers through the glass scattering it's oddly coloured rays onto the hall floor. The floor that only ever gets polished when the grandparents stay for Christmas.

No doubt as soon as the door opens there is an unmistakeable smell of cats. You know what I mean? The familiar, though some would say foul, mixture of tinned processed meat, mud and the musky smell of fur, as well as any dead rodents secreted behind some heavy piece of furniture which as yet remain undiscovered.

A picture rail running around the top of the wall, however to fit in with our families motto _'there's nothing interesting about being normal' _there are no pictures on it. N, instead there are plates. Circular, hexagonal and rectangular as far as I can see there is no particular reason for them as they have no decorative value whatsoever. The only purpose they have is to let out an ear piercing, spine trembling shriek if a finger nail should catch them at the wrong angle when being dusted.

As well as the cat smell and peculiar decoration another thing it is hoped, by my mother, that a visitor may feel is the warm, relaxed and homely atmosphere. Created by the wood burning stove, dangerous DIY tools left lying around from the various urgent yet unfinished jobs and general clutter.

However if you live here the atmosphere is totally different, knowing that the warmth from the wood on the stove is only there because we can't afford the central heating and is not worth the freezing, slippery and troublesome journey to the log pile behind the garage. Knowing also that once mum and dad get home another argument will inevitably erupt because of the unfinished jobs and finally that clutter was supposed to be tidied up by me so that the cleaner can clean.

Tell me what is the point of having a cleaner if you have to clean up before she arrives? A cleaner I hear you cry. You must be rich! No it was a simple choice between a cleaner or family therapy because of the endless arguments about cleaning. Frankly the cleaner was cheaper. Though if you are lucky enough to be home whilst she clumsily cleans the house you will be treated to the tuneless whistle, song destroying singing and the tortuously repetitive 'thump, thump, thump' as the new vacuum cleaner thumps against the vile varnished skirting board, emphasis on the 'new' as she broke the last vacuum cleaner. Reducing it to a smoking, battered and grumbling mess as it unwillingly sucked the last bit of chocolate off the carpet.

A carpet I will add in a room where food cannot be consumed. The dirty whit (some may know as cream) colour will show up stains far too easily, apparently. So the cleaner hides the evidence lessening the tension a little at least until we have to pay off the bill for the vacuum cleaner, then we won' t even be able to afford matches to light the fire, therefore banishing the illusion of a traditional and loving home.

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_Review!_


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